Beta the Lost
by Zurui Etowa-ru
Summary: The adventures of an elf, nicknamed "Beta," living in a land called Templehelm. Note: This character makes use of the Elven language developed by J.R.R. Tolkien and adapted by The Grey Company.
1. Where Am I?

The chirping of birds as the sun peered through the jungle's canopy caused a stirring on the mossy floor. In stark contrast to the earthly hues was a pile of blonde hair, curled above and behind the head of a woman returning to consciousness. Orbs the color of rich soil slowly opened, seeming almost amiss against the porcelain hues of her skin. Lids fluttering slightly, it took a moment for the woman's vision to focus, so that she could understand what it was she saw above her.

An ocelot, emerald pigments full of curiosity, sat above her face, peering down at her cautiously. As it realized she was awake, it sprung backwards, taking refuge among the jungle trees.

"Wait!" a contralto tone squeaked, as her vocal cords were forced into action again, grudgingly. Scrambling to her feet, the woman stumbled, tripping over an exposed root and landing back-first against a sturdy jungle tree. Not even a leaf rustled as a result of her abrupt collision.

"Owww," the woman whimpered, taking a moment to rub the forming lump upon the back of her head, before brushing the dirt free of her kelly-green tunic and black, leather leggings. Glancing about, she instinctively hugged herself, unsure of what else might be watching.

As she glanced about, she noticed a vine. The lost woman immediately went to it, beginning to climb. She knew not how the knowledge of the sturdiness of vines and branches came to her, but it did, and within moments, she was surveying the jungle from the topmost reaches of the tree she'd collided with earlier - treading only upon the sturdiest of branches. From what she could see, the general area looked as though the forces of nature had come together to form an interesting landscape. There was a tower in the distance, amid some snow-capped trees. To the south of that was a desert, and between her jungle and these features was a sparkling ocean. The woman could not help but stand in awe of the scenery.

After a time, instinct told her to move toward the tower. Not questioning the feelings that had gotten her this far, she began to move in that direction; treetop to treetop, vine to vine. As she approached the ocean's waters, she did not stop; she ran at the height of her speed and leapt into the sapphire waves. The cold both shocked and refreshed her, and it swept what was left of the jungle's terrain from her. Coming up for air, she pushed the goldenrod locks from her face. She allowed herself to bob in the water for a moment as she regained her bearings. Spotting the sandy beach, the lost woman began to swim toward it.

Reaching the beach after what seemed like a decade of swimming, she clambered up onto the shore, resting in the sunlight until she no longer felt waterlogged. She was glad for the sun's warmth and intensity after the frigid swim. As the sun whisked away the ocean's moisture, she looked northward, in the direction of the snowy forest and the tower. The woman did not know why she was drawn here, or where "here" even was. Perhaps even more disturbing, her lack of memory regarding her whereabouts did not bother her. She had a feeling that she was exactly where she needed to be, doing exactly what it was she needed to do.

The sound of a hammer striking iron shook her from her thoughts. Pushing herself to her feet once more, she began to follow the sound, up past the tower, and down around again. Her vision was brought to a partially-frozen lake, with a red-headed blacksmith working outside of an under-hill home. Without pause, the woman's feet carried her toward the smith, convinced that this person was familiar to her. It was only after she got within twenty yards that she remembered.

Apparently, the lost woman's sudden approach went unnoticed until her boot scuffed upon the stone brick beside the lake. Violet eyes wide, the red-headed smith jerked up, swinging the hammer around defensively.

"GAH!" the smith exclaimed, jumping back from the ironworking. Upon seeing that the green-clad figure was not a threat, the smith sighed, lowering the hammer. "For the love of Cavilon, PLEASE do not do that, Beta! Dressed in green like that, I thought you were a Creeper."

"Shunte?" the woman gasped. "W-What happened? Where are we? ...What's a Beta?" With every passing moment, the woman's visage became more confused. "What's a Cavilon?"

The hammer fell to the ground with an unceremonious ring, and violet eyes went wide once more. "You're joking. You have to be."

The woman smiled sheepishly, rubbing the lump on the back of her head. "Afraid not. Other than you my friend, so far, I don't remember a thing..."


	2. Templehelm 101

"So let me get this straight," the contralto timbre rang, between sips of piping hot tea. "My name, as far as you know it, is Beta."  
>The cavick nodded.<br>"All right, and this land - " Beta gestured to the freezing pond outside, the nearby desert, and the hillside. "Is called, uh, Temple-Helm."  
>"It's pronounced 'Templehelm,' but yes," the lavender-eyed redhead replied.<br>"Okay, and there are six deities that rule over different aspects of life here." A sip of the honey-flavored brew broke the silence of the amnesiac's pause.  
>"Correct."<br>"These deities are Akwal, of the waters, Cavilon, of the caves, Deserma, of the Sun and of the desert, Wildaven, of the wilds and jungle, Wintival, of the snow and moon, and Netharna, of the burning Nether." Between each description of the deities, a sip of tea was removed from the cup, until none remained.  
>"Essentially."<br>The tea cup was placed gently onto the oak table, as calloused hands moved to rub the tension out of her temples.

"This is so frustrating," Beta growled. "Why can't I remember a thing?"  
>"My guess is that you hit your head," the cavick replied. "What's the last thing you remember?"<br>The blonde sighed. "The last thing I remember is waking up. There was an ocelot staring at me. When it realized I was awake, it ran off."  
>There was a pause, and then the woman's chocolate hues met the cavick's lavender ones.<br>"What do I do for a living? What are my skills? Did I worship one of those deities? Which one?" The redhead took a step back, as the woman was standing now, slowly approaching.  
>"Who am I?"<br>The amnesiac slumped back into the sturdy oak chair, head in her hands.

"Take it easy, Beta," Shunte said, taking the seat next to her. "I'll fill you in on what I can."  
>"O-okay." The woman's voice was shaky.<br>The cavick took a deep breath. "You very much enjoy being in nature. You are a good farmer, at least, from what I've seen. You help my sad little farm out back, anyway," Shunte teased, attempting to get Beta to smile. Seeing that it wasn't working very well, the cavick continued. "On the rare occasion I see you take up arms, you prefer a bow, and you're pretty handy with it. You've saved my back-side more than once from a Creeper, I'll say that much."  
>Violet eyes closed momentarily as the monologue paused.<br>"As far as your beliefs, I can honestly say I don't know. I have my theories, which I'll keep to myself, but your religion is not something you've been very open about. I guess you'll have to rediscover that one on your own."

Shunte stood, stretching.  
>"I'm of the opinion that who you are depends on who you ask," the cavick sighed. "To us? You're one of our best friends and closest non-faction allies."<br>Beta blinked. "Non-faction? Us? Who's 'us'?"  
>As if on queue, the double doors of Shunte's home swung open. A man clad in chain mail, a cape, and a bucket helm walked through the door, crimson eyes peering from below the face guard.<p> 


	3. People and Politics

"Sciyo?" Chocolate hues narrowed as the man entered, his name spoken with an uncertain cadence.  
>"The one and only." The crimson-eyed man removed his helm, revealing the fur of a silver-gray lupine.<br>"What grants us the pleasure of your visit today, Beta?"  
>The small smile that had been forming upon the woman's lips fell. "Well, u-um." The shy stutter returned. "I, uh."<br>"She doesn't remember a thing," Shunte said flatly.  
>The green-clad blonde smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head, and Sciyo frowned.<br>"Oh dear." The wolf's ears bobbed slightly, as he paced the room with his finger to his lip. "What could have caused this anomaly? I wonder." He turned to Beta.  
>"You say that you remember nothing?" The man began to pace slowly.<br>"Almost nothing." She sighed. "I remember people, but not _how_ I got to know them. Everything else is a mystery."

The grey-furred wolf nodded in understanding. "Troubling indeed." After a moment, Sciyo's face lit up. He turned and rushed up the stairs, peering back down only to speak a few words. "Be right back!"  
>The sound of metal armor hitting the floor broke the otherwise peaceful pause. Shunte's face and palm met, and the cavick sighed.<br>"I really wish he wouldn't do that." The red-headed smith's eyes followed the wolf-man as he came back down the stairs, half-running, half-tumbling. He was carrying a book, and a two bottles of purplish liquid.

"Oh no." The worshipper of Cavilon's face was now buried completely between both hands.  
>"I've been doing some research!" The wolf beamed, dropping the tome on the oak surface and gently setting the bottles before Beta. "If I'm interpreting these runes correctly, upon drinking these potions, Akwal will return your memories to you like the flood of a gushing river!"<p>

Beta's head shot sideways as Shunte replied. "And if you happened to mistake a glyph or two?"  
>The wolf's face fell. "Um, well... if you replace this '¬' with a 'μ', and perhaps if this 'o' is actually an 'ø,' um." His eyes became like ants on a pile of redstone.<br>"Oh-oh my. The incantation then reads that your organs will rush forth from you like the raging waters of Akwal. We certainly wouldn't want that."

With a mouse-like squeak, Beta paled to the color of fresh snow, and shrank from the potions, scooting as far away from them as she could in her chair. "N-no, no we would not. I-I think I'm b-b-better off if you j-just answer qu-qu-qu-questions for now."  
>"Nice going, magic boy," Shunte grumbled, delivering a swift smack upside the canid's head.<p>

"Ow!" The wolf glared at the cavick, rubbing the back of his head. "That hurt," he whined.

"U-um. You mentioned factions." Beta took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves while willing the potions as far from her as possible. "P-please, tell me of them. You mentioned I was a 'non-faction friend?'"  
>Shunte grumbled. "Ask the furry one. He's more well-traveled than I am."<br>Both the green-clad woman and the cavick's gazes turned to the wolf.

"Well, I suppose I am." Sciyo looked between the two. "Well, there is Apotheosis, whose motto is 'Peace Through Power.' They're on another continent, and where we moved from."  
>Beta nodded, taking mental notes as she listened.<br>"Immediately nearby, there exists the Prism Syndicate. Kelvin, head of the Prism Syndicate, wants to unite the religions of the world in pursuit of knowledge."  
>Sciyo sighed. "Further away, near the Market, is Mipedian. I don't know much about them, I'm afraid, but I've heard whispers of wars concerning them."<br>The woman nodded again.  
>"There are a few others, dedicated to the protection of Templehelm, but I'm afraid their names are slipping my mind. I have heard only names, and never really encountered any of their kin." The wolf frowned, and then gazed toward the library occupying part of the kitchen. "I'm sure my journals from travels past exist in those shelves. Feel free to take a look, whenever you would like."<br>Beta smiled. "Thank you!"

Suddenly, the woman's stomach growled again. The woman blushed, wanting to hide. Her embarrassment was met with looks of confusion and puzzlement.  
>"How far did you travel, exactly?" The cavick's tone was a little concerned.<br>"Uhh... from the nearest jungle, I guess. I don't remember exactly how far." Beta looked between the two.  
>"Say no more. It's dinner time." The wolf smiled, going outside to a submerged chest. From there, he withdrew a few large fish, which he returned with. "How's fish sound for dinner?"<p> 


	4. Nightmares and Instincts

Fitful dreams plagued the lost child that night. The jungles were eerily quiet, with a deathly chill. Beta pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders, leaning up against the tree as she sat with her mahogany recurve before her. The insects of night had fallen eerily quiet as well. Something was amiss in her jungle, and Beta was not about to have anything of it.

A twig snapped below her. Glancing down, the woman saw a man clad in leather armor, shakily holding a blade. He would glance to and fro, obviously afraid of something. The jungles were not any place for one not sure of their skills. Bones rattled, undead moaned, spiders screeched; like lions to a gazelle, the creatures of darkness closed around the helpless man. Not about to let this person's blood be shed, Beta drew an arrow from her quiver, nocking it and taking aim.

The spider went first; arrows nearly catching fire as they blazed through the air, piercing the arachnid's thorax and head. Next went the zombie; arrows cleanly pinning it to the tree behind it. The skeleton's head was knocked clean off by the next volley, its bones rattling to the ground, animated no longer. Bewildered, the man looked about, unsure of where the arrows came from.

"He-he-hello?" The baritone stuttered.  
>"Hail," a confident contralto replied.<br>"I-I'm lost. How do I get out of here?" The man glanced about, not certain where the voice had come from.  
>"About sixty paces in the direction opposite of those creatures is a small settlement. They should be able to shelter you for the night." Beta watched him carefully.<br>"T-T-thank you!" The man ran in that direction, and the woman sighed. "Watch out for the-" The hissing which interrupted her indicated that he'd already found what she was warning him of.  
>"Creepers." Not hearing the explosion, Beta breathed a sigh of relief. The shivering twig might actually survive here.<p>

_The woman's vision went blurry, and her surroundings changed._

"Pilinor!" The incantation set the arrow ablaze as the woman loosed it. The undead abomination which received her arrow was set ablaze, rotten flesh casting a putrid smoke into the sky.  
>"HOLD THEM OFF!" Boomed the voice of the general, sword pointed at the wall of abominations approaching, voice hard and grim, like a man who'd seen too much bloodshed. Full-body armor covered the man head to toe, but the weight didn't seem to hamper him at all. Skeletal archers picked off the unprotected as walking corpses marched forward, stopping only if set ablaze or decapitated.<p>

Glancing over the battlements as she nocked her next arrow, the woman's expression turned to rage. Her long-time companion had just been overtaken by the undead. "NO!" Aiming a triad of arrows at the incoming beasts, Beta cast a longer incantation. "Pilinea, varllie melloneamin!"  
>The would-be archer-mage winced at the strain of the magic on her, and as she loosed her arrows, more appeared. They descended upon the enemy, killing those who would harm her nearby companions. However, they were too late. Her friend was now among the ranks of undead.<p>

"T-Tiri." The battlements shook as the undead literally slammed into the walls and gate below. Clutching the stone fixture before her, the woman shook. Now was not the time for fear, nor pain. Now was the time to defend, or to die. Grief could come later. Peering further over the walls, Beta made up her mind. She hoisted herself onto the wall. She could feel rage pulsing within her, about her, around her. It was as though the emotion was begging her to do something, to be something different. She knew what she must do.

"CHILD! What are you doing?" The commander boomed. "Get down from there-" Before the man could finish, the woman allowed gravity to take her forward, balustrade falling fast behind her. She made no attempt to correct her descent as she loosed a primal scream. With a burst of magic the likes of which could barely be fathomed, the woman transformed mere inches from the ground, sending the debris of opponents every which way. As the dust cleared, in place of the woman stood a bipedal wolf creature, with fur black as night and eyes the color of blood. Claws extended, the wolf let out a ragged snarl as it began its rampage, removing undead heads from rotting shoulders. The battle turned toward the worse, however; the creature became overwhelmed, unable to strike. As the wolf howled for assistance, a voice rang out, outside of the dream.

"_**Remember, my child. Remember."**_

Beta awoke with a start, landing solidly on the oak planks of Shunte and Sciyo's floor.  
>"Ouch!" the woman whined, leaning against the sofa she'd fallen from. She panted, as though the dream had exhausted her. After a moment she stood, taking her loaner bow, headed out to slay some undead. Whether or not the dream was real, she needed to get out of the house and loose a few arrows. If nothing else, that would clear her head and allow her to think rationally.<p> 


	5. Discovery

It couldn't be said that the woman's arrows were harmless. Stalking through the early morning woods, just prior to the sun's cresting of the horizon, every arrow she loosed landed down throats, through eyes, or in foreheads. Skeletal skulls rolled from bony archer bodies, and zombies fell, brains suddenly destroyed. Spiders squealed, before the razor-tipped projectiles ended them.

An idea occurred to Beta as a zombie clad in what used to be king's garb emerged from the caves across the lake. She shuddered at the sight. The poor soul might have died defending his kingdom from the legions of undead. Either way, he was a king no more. Narrowing chocolate hues blurred with the mist of forlorn emotions, she whispered, as though to the arrow itself.

"Pilinor."

The surge of magical energy was almost like that sudden shortness of breath after a long stretch. As if in slow motion, Beta watched the arrow as she released it. As the feathers brushed past the wood of the bow, the arrowhead caught fire, screaming toward the zombie. More of the projectile caught aflame as it began to spiral clockwise about its length, making the tip appear almost like a cone. True to its mark, the arrow caught the undead creature square in the throat. With a gurgling screech, the thing fell backward as the flames spread hungrily over its form, as though alive themselves. When the flames finally died down, there was nothing left of the zombie but scorched bones and ash, and the bloodstained crown that had sat almost in mockery upon its head.

The archer couldn't believe what she'd seen. Such a powerful little spell, and she had already recovered her strength. Lowering the bow, the woman quivered; as much an excitement as in fear. What else could she do that she didn't remember? Her mind's eye involuntarily focused on the form she'd had in her dream. Large, furry, and ferocious, teeth and claws like jagged blades, eyes burning the color of blood and fury, fur the color of fire's ashen wake. Easily the height of two large men while still crouched; the image of a similar beast was the product of fury and hatred, birthing fear in those who might witness it.

Images flashed of battles past with other, similar forms. Men slapped aside, armor pierced like the flesh of an apple, wounds fatal upon receipt. Unless struck in the eyes or throat, arrows of normal stock rarely had an effect, aside from fueling the rage beast. Low level spell slinging sloughed off each of the creatures' pelts.

Beta dropped the bow to the ground, backing up toward the dirt-and-wood front of Shunte and Sciyo's home. She sank to the wood and cobblestone laden ground beneath her, covering her head with her arms in hopes that they would protect her from the unwarranted images assaulting her mind. She could almost smell the blood and hear the startled cries of her kin fighting against the bloodlust-filled demon wolves. Irrational fear gripped her, like the terror a child feels when they are lost among a crowd of strangers, but a thousand times worse.

An unpleasant sensation overcame her as fear and discomfort mingled with that same reserve of energy that set the arrow on fire. She felt her limbs distorting, although not painfully, but it made her queasy, the world spinning around her. She felt a sudden itching sensation all over her body, which passed almost as quickly as it had started. Once the dizziness of the shift passed, the woman scrambled to her hands and knees, scrabbling to the edge of the lake. What she saw reflected back shocked her.

Staring back up at her in the reflection of the water was not her own face; it was that of a chestnut-furred, amber-eyed she-wolf. What would have been a startled exclamation in her human form came out as a barking whimper, and she placed a half-paw, half-hand over the front of her muzzle. Hearing some movement from within her hosts' house, Beta panicked. Did they know? What would they do if she was seen like this?

In a part fear, part rational decision, the woman-in-wolf-form did what anyone in that situation would have.

She ran.

Like a canine chasing a felid, the woman took off down the edge of the partially-frozen lake, out toward the sun-baked cobblestone path of the desert sands.


	6. Memories

In her current form, it took her only a few moments to arrive at the forest island she instinctively knew was there. With a leap, Beta managed to mash one of the buttons that granted her entry into the place and scramble inside before the door crashed shut.

In this form, images flashed in her mind, and it took all of the wolf woman's strength not to collapse among the trees and succumb to the assault. She held out until she arrived at a small shrine, which she somehow knew was full with offerings to the one called Wildaven. Unbidden from lupine lips flowed words of prayer, natural as breathing.

"O Wildaven, Mother of the Wilds, please bless this shrine and accept these humble offerings." That was what she had meant to say, at least; a wolf's mouth and wolf's tongue were not made to speak common, and the words were roughened, if intelligible at all. The chestnut fur of her visage was ruffled slightly by a breeze smelling faintly of jungle flowers. The chest opened and closed, and she felt Wildaven's presence in her thoughts.

_My child, you have started remembering._ There was a pause.

_Despite your loss, you have stayed true -  
>and so will I, in steady kind.<br>As your reward, I'll grant to you,  
>all memories that were in bind.<em>

_What I ask you in honest truth  
>is something of your heart:<br>Keep me within, now and again,  
>and never shall we drift apart.<em>

As the god's words rang through the woman's head, memories flowed forth back into their original places. Tears in her eyes, she remembered herself - the woman forged by her history.

She was called Imirisilme. Beta was of Elven lineage; one of the Taur'Quessir, or Sylvan Elves, and one of the ones her people called "Hini Tel'Mordraug" - Children of Black Wolves. The Black Wolves' emotions, when strong enough, would transform them into a wolf or werewolf, hence the name. It was also the reason she adopted the moniker 'Beta' - most people certainly found it easier to say 'Beta' than 'Imirisilme,' and in circles of magic it was generally safer to give out a nickname than a true name.

She was an oracle of Wildaven, as well as powerful mage, although not an archmage yet. In addition to magics, the woman knew that had been trained, naturally, in the arts of archery and blades. She had fought in a few wars, alongside some friends, whom she hadn't seen in a long time. Her business with Prism was to protect them as though they were blood, and it was her own directive that brought her here. She'd been a wanderer for a long time, not able to really call anywhere 'home' in centuries.

Perhaps it was time to start.

Form shimmering, Beta returned to her elven form and her ranger's gear, coming up to a kneeling position from being sprawled on the grass.

"Thank you, Mother." Beta's voice was but a whisper. "In Thy Name."

Prayers said, the renewed Child of Wildaven took to her treetop home and took a mahogany recurve bow from her battle chest. The resistance and curvature of the bow were perfect, as though it was sung from the strongest of mahogany trees. On either side of the hand hold was a sigil of the Sylvan Elves - an oak tree with flowing branches. The string of the weapon was superb as well; a cord spun of the strongest spider silk, enchanted and waxed against damage and weathering. It was indeed a formidable weapon, with its own score of enchantments.

Along with the recurve bow, the woman removed her quiver of arrows, a sword, and an axe. She crossed the room to her cot, placing the items gingerly upon the quilt. Turning to another chest, she removed her enchanted, chain-and-plate armor, donning it. For a change, she unbound her long plait of golden hair, which spilled in a wavy cascade over her shoulders and back. Donning her bow and quiver, and sliding her melee weapons into their slots upon her hips, the woman left her home once more.

It was not long before she reached the site of her discarded bow. Frowning, Beta picked it up, dusting it off. She entered her friends' home, placing it back in its chest. She would then turn to leave, determined to speak with Lord Kelvin about membership in the Syndicate. Prism was to be her home, and she would protect it with her life.


End file.
